


Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've)?

by PanicAtTheAlice



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bisexuality, Enemies to Lovers, For a bit anyway, M/M, Making Out, Sharing a Bed, Smut, So smutty, but then it gets better, honestly I don't really know what this is but I'm not sorry, then it gets kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-11-19 15:15:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanicAtTheAlice/pseuds/PanicAtTheAlice
Summary: In which Simon is confused, Baz is in love with him, and they have sex.





	1. Ever Fallen In Love

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a WIP for a long time, but I wanted to get this right. I hope you like it.
> 
> A few works that mildly inspired this one were, "Catch Me If You Can" by sorbriquette, and a lot of my characterization was inspired by BasicBathsheba's "rebel rebel". Not to mention that the title comes from a Buzzcock's song, I definitely recommend giving it a listen.
> 
> Lastly, shout out to SHARKMARTINI for finding me on r/fanfiction asking for a beta and being kind enough to read through the mess that this is and tie up the loose ends. Thank you.
> 
> Without further ado, I hope you like this!

**Baz**

Baz was going to murder Simon if he didn’t stop tapping his foot.

It’d been two hours since dinner had ended, and Simon hadn’t stopped fidgeting since. Now, it wasn’t that Baz wasn’t accustomed to foot tapping or finger tapping, this was of course to be expected from rooming with Simon Snow for eight years. But there’s a line between a normal amount of fidgeting, and whatever was happening with Snow right now.

Baz had been trying to write a paper on the effects of the Norman invasion of 1066 upon the English language, and Simon exhaling deeply every few minutes and tapping his foot incessantly was driving him towards the brink of insanity.

Baz had half a mind to stomp over to Simon and spell his feet to the ground, or perhaps his mouth shut. However, in a bout of unwavering self control, he didn’t. Instead he sat at his own desk, quietly scratching away at an essay. 

For a whole ten minutes.

Baz glared at his paper, his pen clutched tightly between his fingers, halfway through writing “Normandy” when he broke.

“Snow,” Baz started, working his jaw in a very undignified fashion.

Simon made a noise somewhere between “mm” and “yeah”. Baz inhaled slowly and let it back out just as deliberately.

“Could you please stop tapping your foot,” Baz asked. Simon’s foot immediately stopped tapping.

“Sorry,” he said.

Just sorry. Just that easy. No fight. Nothing. Something was definitely off. 

Baz frowned and glanced over to Simon to see that he’d closed his textbook and had moved onto staring at a page of notes. Simon never looked at his notes. For one, he never took notes, he usually borrowed Penny’s, or didn’t bother at all. Something was very much off, if only Baz could place his finger on it.

Against his better judgement, Baz capped his pen and steeled his nerves.

“Are you…” Baz trailed off, Simon didn’t acknowledge him, “okay?” he finished.

Simon frowned and turned to look at him, he looked terrible. He had bags under his eyes and his eyes were vaguely red. Either he was very tired or very high, Baz didn’t know which one was worse.

“Are you feeling alright, Baz?” Simon asked, something like confusion and genuine concern laced in his words.

Baz bristled, “I could ask you the same thing as it seems as if you’ve done nothing but tap your foot for the last three hours.” 

Simon’s eyes widened a bit and his head spun to glance at the clock, “It’s been two.”

“Same difference,” Baz replied, after all, it was more like two hours and forty-five minutes, close enough, “it was an estimate.”

“Bad estimate,” offered Simon, setting his papers aside and turning to face Baz. This was starting to feel too much like a conversation.

“Forget it,” Baz said, adjusting his already adjusted sleeves and standing up from his desk.

“Where are you going?” Simon asked.

“Outside,” Baz replied, closing their door behind him. 

He didn’t know why Simon bothered asking anyway, he knew where Baz was going.

_That was a pointless conversation_ , was all Baz could think as he made his way across the chilly grounds towards the White Chapel.

-

When Baz returned from hunting he stepped into their room only to discover Simon lying in bed, snoring softly with a textbook open upon his chest. Baz had half a mind to pick it up and set it on the desk.

However, he didn’t as he didn’t want to risk waking Simon, no doubt he’d try to harass Baz into admitting he was a vampire. He was such a numpty sometimes.

As it turned out, Baz didn’t have to worry about waking Simon as he’d just woken up himself. Baz glanced towards Simon’s bed only to see him setting the textbook that was on the ground onto his desk. Baz let his eyes linger for a moment on Simon’s arms, watching the muscles work as he set the book down. He was such an idiot.

Simon glanced towards Baz as he lay back down, but he didn’t say anything. Strange. He appeared lost in thought as he turned towards the wall and evened out his breathing. Very strange. 

He didn’t comment on it and instead chose to quietly prepare for bed. He considered going to the bathroom to change his clothes, but he supposed it didn’t matter as Simon was facing the wall and was most likely on the verge of sleep by now.

Baz’s fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt as he pulled it off. He faced away from Simon’s bed as he pulled on a simple shirt and quickly followed by exchanging his trousers for a comfortable pair of sweatpants. 

Baz heard Simon’s bed creak behind him, but he didn’t check to see if Simon was looking at him. Why would he be looking at him anyway? He wasn’t exactly doing anything unusual at the time, unless he counted changing in the other’s presence for the first time in seven years. Although, come to think of it, he supposed it was a plausible idea. Even though he could recall all the moles on Simon’s face, it didn’t mean he knew the rest of him (although he wouldn’t mind). 

He didn’t even bother folding his clothes as he tossed them into the hamper. It appeared Simon wasn’t the only one deviating from the norm today. He took a moment to take inventory of the room (read as: took a few minutes to stare at the back of Simon’s head) before waving his wand at the lights, hoping pure intention was enough to turn them off. To his pleasant surprise it was, although it was probably just a side effect of Simon’s magic. He was a known cause of magical irregularities.

Baz silently padded over to his bed, picking up the edge of his blankets and slipped in, relaxing as his mattress responded to the familiar shape of him. Although Baz wouldn’t admit it, he preferred his bed at Watford to the one back home. For one, one smelled like Simon, the other did not. 

He was pathetic. Every night he stared at Simon, cataloging the curves and edges of him. The way his chest rose in a regular rhythm like clockwork. He wondered what it’d be like to be like Simon—so alive, so warm. Even in his mind he sounded like a vampire. He tried to ignore his thoughts, but it was difficult when Simon was across from him. Just a few feet between them, yet so far.

However, as Baz waxed poetic about Simon, said person turned around in his own bed, staring at Baz. Baz knew Simon didn’t have night vision like he did, but it was still unnerving to have unfocused eyes set on him.

“Baz.”

Baz stopped breathing, and didn’t respond.

“I know you’re awake,” Simon tried, Baz didn’t reply. 

A silence fell between them, thick and tangible. It lingered for a few seconds before Simon broke it. 

“Fine, just-” Simon’s voice was too loud in the silence of their cold, dark room, or maybe Baz's hearing was too good, either way, he didn’t really mind, “just listen,” Simon finished.

Baz saw him turn onto his back, his eyes staring into the nothingness of the ceiling. He wondered if Simon felt as real as he seemed. 

“Something happened today,” Simon started, Baz heard Simon’s slow, steady breaths. Sometimes he didn’t know if that was normal, or if it was the vampire side of him. “Something, but probably not what I should be focused on.” 

Baz remained silent, but shifted to better see Simon. _He has a nice profile_ , he thought as Simon gnawed at his lower lip. He would’ve very much liked to gnaw it for him. _Vampire_ , his mind supplied him.

“Agatha broke up with me, but,” even more silence, “she said something to me.”

As Simon talked on, Baz realized this was very much a situation he didn’t want to be involved in. Great, now he was getting insider details of the chosen one’s complicated relationship with his on-off girlfriend. This is not what bedtime stories were meant to be.

“We never talk anymore. We don’t even kiss, Merlin, it’s just she mentioned you,” Simon stopped suddenly, Baz saw his eyebrows furrow. Baz imagined walking over to Simon’s bed, sitting on the edge and rubbing his thumb across his forehead, rubbing out the creases. He was so far gone.

“She was mad, because, well, because I never spend time with her. She’s right you know, I’m always busy,” Simon laughed a hollow sort of laugh, “I’m always busy. Guess it’s just part of being the Chosen One,” even though Simon’s words were light-hearted, his tone was not. Baz couldn't imagine why. They always broke up and got back together within the month.

Baz couldn’t help himself. 

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, genuinely confused as to why Simon thought him to be a worthy confidant. If anything, that was Penny. If Simon thought Baz was a sex or couples therapist, he was sorely mistaken. 

“Well…” Simon trailed off, as if he didn’t quite know the answer to that, “Well, you listen. Not that, well, not that Penny doesn’t listen, but it’s just, you’re a guy.”

Baz was even more confused that he was two hours ago. 

“Because I’m a guy,” Baz repeated slowly, ignoring the chill in the air as he forewent his blanket to lean against the wall while he spoke to Simon. 

“Yeah,” Simon glanced towards Baz then back to the ceiling, “she said something to me, and, it’s just, argh,” Simon huffed, pushing himself up so that he was leaning against his headboard. 

Baz reverted back to old tactics and stayed quiet, letting Simon sort himself out. _Use your words Simon_ ,Baz thought.

“Agatha thinks I’m bisexual and that I should take some time to figure it out,” Simon said in one large stream of what felt like alphabet soup. 

Baz stayed silent, genuinely not knowing how to respond. What did ‘figure it out’ mean? Did Simon want someone to figure it out with? Him? That was ridiculous. Did Simon know he was gay? Or was he just asking because Baz was a guy? Either way, Baz still didn’t know what point this conversation served. Although, Baz couldn’t help but let a tiny ember of hope ignite within his chest, even though he knew it’d be his downfall. 

“It’s just,” Simon turned to look at Baz, his eyes unfocused and confused, “I don’t know what to do.”

 _Say something_ , Baz’s mind supplied, but what was there to say. ‘ _So yeah, in light of your sexuality crisis I’ve decided to let you know I’ve been in love with you for the past seven years, also, if you want to test out your sexuality with me, I wouldn’t say no_ ’, as if that’d go over well. 

“You don’t know what to do,” Baz repeated, like an idiot.

“Yes,” Simon rolled his eyes at him. Strange. “Honestly, aren’t you supposed to be the wordy one?” chastised Simon, eyes sharp on Baz.

Baz decided to take the route of blunt honesty, “I don’t know how to respond.”

Simon studied his outline for a moment, he felt his gaze heavy and scrutinizing on him, “You’re not… homophobic,” Simon sat up straighter, pulling his blankets tighter around himself, ”are you? Because that’d just be the cherry on top, wouldn’t it.” 

Baz’s face went somewhere between a flinch and a laugh. On one hand, Baz? Homophobic? He’d spent seven years rooming with this idiot, and he didn’t have the brains to figure out that Baz wasn’t straight. _Neither did you,_ Baz’s mind replied. Baz was really starting to hate the voice inside his head.

However, on the other hand, ‘cherry on top’. Baz was such a well rounded asshole, apparently that Simon wouldn’t be surprised if Baz had found another way to be a dick. Ouch, but he couldn’t very well blame him, could he? It wouldn’t be strange, would it?

For a wild moment, Baz considered playing all of his cards and telling Simon he was gay, but he figured it was fruitless and would just lead to further heartbreak. So instead Baz decided on a simple: “No, I’m not.”

“Well then?” prompted Simon, “don’t you have _anything_ to say to me?”

Baz huffed, what was Simon expecting? For Baz to magically procure him a guy to test out his sexuality. No, magic had its limitations, and this was apparently one of them. He didn’t even think of suggesting himself. If Simon had a list of guys he’d experiment with, Baz was sure he wouldn’t be on it.

“I don’t know, Snow, maybe ask Niall to help you figure it out—he’s bisexual,” Baz suggested non-comitally and not at all serious, furrowing deeper into his blankets. It’d be the peak of irony if Niall and Simon ended up together. He couldn’t even bother trying to figure out if he’d used irony correctly.

Across from him, Baz basically felt Simon’s eyes widen. “He is?” Simon asked, incredulously. Baz got the feeling he was taking his suggestion too seriously, but pushed on.

Baz nodded, then remembered Simon couldn’t see him. “Yes, he told us last year,” he didn’t mention that it only came up because he came out to Dev and Niall first. Dev had joked that he was the only straight one, but Niall hadn’t believed him. Baz thought Niall was barney for thinking Dev could be anything else but straight, given how much time he spent staring at Agatha, much to Simon’s displeasure. 

Simon had apparently fallen into silence. After a few minutes his breathing had evened out.

“Thanks Baz,” he mumbled before falling deeping into sleep.

He was so fucked.


	2. (With Someone You Shouldn't've)?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Simon and Baz are horny idiots and it's Baz's turn to have a mini-crisis. But what can we say? We still love them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? I love them. Also, I lied about posting every Wednesday and Saturday. I couldn't help it. Here's chapter two!
> 
> Enjoy!

“Baz, is there any reason why Simon came up to me today and asked me to kiss him?” Niall asked offhandedly as he passed Baz a plate with sour cherry scones. Baz nearly choked on his Earl Grey. 

“Did you kiss him?” asked Baz once he’d gotten himself under control. Even as he asked the question, he wasn’t sure what he wanted the answer to be.

“Oh yeah,” replied Niall, rolling his eyes, “we had a full on makeout session in front of the Mage’s office, bloke came out holding a sign with a ten on it.”

It was Baz turn to rolling his eyes, scoffing. He could play along. “A ten? I think you’re overestimating yourself a bit there, mate. Might wanna get that ego of yours checked out, it’s getting a big inflated,” said Baz, snarkily, but without bite.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you-”

“Both of you need to get your egos checked, men,” commented Dev, sliding closer to Niall as he bit into a scone. Baz could’ve sworn he saw Niall flush a bit. No wonder he seemed so convinced Dev wasn’t straight.

“Nah mate, if anything it’s Snow that needs to get it checked,” said Niall, stealing the scone from Dev as he brought it to his lips. Dev’s eyes widened but he didn’t comment on it.

“What has the resident Chosen One done now?” Dev said, swiping a scone from the plate in front of Niall. They were hopeless in their own right. “Honestly, I’m surprised it’s not our Baz here telling the story.”

“I think this is one for Niall to tell,” replied Baz, bringing his tea cup to his lips.

“Do tell,” prompted Dev, gesturing for Niall to talk.

“Well, after French ended, Snow followed me for about ten minutes before I slid into an alcove and asked him what he wanted,” Niall paused for dramatic effect, an amused smile playing on his lips, “then, he asked me to kiss him.”

“No,” said Dev, incredulously, “are you taking the piss?”

After Niall didn’t respond and just cocked an eyebrow at Dev, Dev laughed.

“That’s rich mate,” he paused to glance at Baz who was smirking slightly as he heard Niall’s account, “wait, did you know about this?” Dev asked, gaping and pointing at Niall like a buffoon. Honestly, sometimes Baz’s friends were so uncivilized.

“Not exactly,” lied Baz, going to take another sip of his tea, only to find it empty. “Well gentlemen, goodnight and have a good Christmas,” he said as a dismissal before they’d ask him what he meant by his wording.

Let them figure it out themselves.

-

When Baz returned back to their room, he emerged to find it empty and quiet, save for the sound of the shower running. Well, if Simon could get nothing else right, Baz supposed personal hygiene was a good start.

Baz set his bag down on the floor next to his desk and pulled out a textbook. Best to get an early start on the homework so he’d have the Christmas break free to poke at Simon about the Niall situation. Honestly, what was Simon expecting?

However, just as he just started getting into the rhythm of studying, Simon chose that exactly moment to emerge from the bathroom, hot, steamy, and with nothing but a towel around his waist. 

“Merlin, Snow,” Baz said, quickly averting his eyes back to his textbook, “have some decorum.”

“As if you didn’t change in our room last-” Simon realized his slip, and an inexplicable blush made its way to his ears. Baz considered pretending he didn’t hear him, or perhaps that he didn’t know what he was talking about. But, since Baz was decidedly apparently a masochist, he took the bait.

“Wow Snow,” Baz began, “I didn’t take you to be a voyeur,” Baz finished, turning around to face Simon, ignoring the fact that Simon only had a towel protecting his dignity at the moment. 

Simon, inexplicably, seemed to know the meaning of the word as he blushed deeper, shuffling awkwardly. “No, I’m not,” Simon admitted awkwardly.

Baz raised his eyebrows at such blatant honesty, not expecting it. 

“Well, Snow, I didn’t know I was going to be treated to a crash course to your kinks, let me guess,” Baz said, leaning closer, “BDSM?” The look that passed Simon face was so startled and surprised that Baz began to wonder whether or not Simon was truly just embarrassed by his terminology, or if he truly had such sexual prolictivities. He took the former as his answer, hoping to protect his dignity.

“N-no,” Simon stuttered out, gripping the edge of this towel as if it was the only thing saving him. Baz's eyes widened as he noticed a bulge right where Simon's crotch was. 

In a bout of confidence, Baz sprouted, “my, my, my if I knew this was what got you hot and bothered, I should've forewarned Niall.”

That was the nail on the coffin (vampire pun not intended) as Simon's eyebrows furrowed and his expression closed off as he replied, “You’re such an arsehole,” the mild stench of smoke clung tighter to him. 

Baz raised a single eyebrow in response. Simon turned away, gathered up his clothes and slammed the bathroom door behind him.

Baz could tell this was going to be a long break.

\--

The next morning passed by in stony silence, Simon refused to look at Baz, so Baz reciprocated. With there being no classes, Baz found it difficult to entertain himself, much less avoid running into Snow. Both capital and non-capitalized forms. The snow was falling hard so Baz mainly spent his day at the library, dining hall, and room. Even thought Christmas was quickly approaching, and Christmas break had already arrived, nothing seemed to be changing between them.

They seemed fairly uneventful until dinner. That evening, as Baz was drinking his tea, he watched Penny and Simon talk. Agatha was nowhere to be seem. Perhaps she'd already left for Christmas, after all, it was in two days. 

Baz thought it was strange to see Simon without Agatha, especially during Christmas time, but he supposed it was a favorable change, for him anyway. It was still disorienting watching Simon and Penny talk without Agatha in sight. Baz couldn’t quite hear what Simon and Penny were saying, but he call snippets of their conversation.

“...Go with Agatha?”

“..Broke up…”

“Leaving tomorrow… come to my house…”

Eventually, after stuffing his face with sour cherry scones and roast beef, Simon stood up and made his way out of the dining hall, his face determined. This was interesting. Baz’d been looking for some action.

Baz nodded to Niall and Dev and made an offhand comment about needing to practice the violin, as he followed Simon out of the hall. 

Baz didn’t follow too closely and instead chose to detour slightly once he’d realized Simon was off to their room. He took the long way around once he’d realized Simon was on his way to Mummer’s house.

As he was reaching Mummer’s house, Baz stopped abruptly. What was he doing? What was he thinking? What was he expecting to do what he saw Simon? A conversation seemed futile. He couldn’t just ask Simon how dinner went, or why he wasn’t going home for Christmas with Wellbelove.

Baz stopped upright where he stood, hugging his body to him, watching as snow began to fall around him. He pulled his coat closer to himself and huffed.

He’d only drained two rats yesterday, he could always do with a feeding, and a bit of warm blood circulating through him. 

He pulled out his phone (yes, although phones were forbidden at Watford, it did little to stop the students) and put on his headphones, stalking towards the White Chapel mindlessly, letting himself reflect on nothing, not minding the biting cold as snow whipped around him

-

When he returned to their room, the first thing Simon did was stand up abruptly, staring Baz down.

“Crowley, Baz. It’s freezing outside,” he closed the door behind Baz and went back to sit on his bed, inspecting Baz. Baz wasn’t sure if he was checking for signs of hypothermia or blood stains. He’d never find the latter. Baz had feeding down to an art.

Baz let it go on until he’d taken off his coat and sweater, however as he reached his shirt he raised an eyebrow at Snow, “If you came for a strip tease, you’re going to be sorely disappointed,” Baz sneered. 

Simon reddened and turned away from Baz and let his eyes skim over his textbook. Fine, he wasn’t even going to turn fully around. Be that way.

Baz reached for the edge of his shirt, knowing that Simon was watching his out of the corner of his eye and made a show of pulling it off his head. Come to think of it, he did that at a lot of his football games. A lot of his football games that Simon attended. 

Baz chuckled audibly, raising an eyebrow at Simon. Simon scowled and looked at him, before abruptly turning back to his textbook.

“What?” mumbled Simon, annoyed and oh so obviously bothered.

“Oh, nothing,” lied Baz, tossing his shirt into the clothes hamper. The room was cold and Baz current state of undress wasn’t helping that, but he was going to draw out getting into the shower. “Just thinking about how you come to all of my games,” he teased, cringing internally once he’d realized how flirty it’d come out.

Fortunately, Simon bristled, “what about it? I know you’re up to something.”

Baz scoffed, “What am I plotting? Taking off my shirt?” 

Simon emitted a noise akin to choking, “I don’t know,” he said stupidly, then pointed angrily at Baz, “what about that one time you pushed me down the bloody stairs.”

“What about it? What does that have to do with going to my football games?” Baz threw back at Simon.

In hindsight, that was an accident. He didn’t mean to push Simon down the stairs. And even if he had, the school nurse fixed him up in under three days. If anything, Simon should be angry at the Mage for making him fight a band of trolls the day after he’d recovered enough to stand. Enough to stand, not enough to wield a sword against a band of angry trolls. If anything, the Mage was the biggest numpty of them all.

“You’re such an arse,” Simon said, apparently resigned to the notion that Baz was an asshole as he turned back to his textbook with an angry huff.

Baz got his nerve back and replied, “what? You’re just going to miss the strip tease?” 

“You said it yourself,” said Simon, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he spoke, “there is no strip tease.”

Baz considered it. Baz hated himself for considering it, but Simon made it so easy. He left so many silences for Baz to fill with words. It’d be so easy to insert a throw away line, he could basically see a cursor flickering in front of his face, waiting for him to speak.

But he didn’t.

He turned away, gathered his clothes, and made his way into the bathroom.

He closed the door behind him and set his clothes down and braced himself against the sink, staring at himself, watching dark strands of hair fall against his cheeks, framing his eyes in black. 

He looked as he always did, handsome in his own right. But he was getting tired. No, he was tired. Tired of holding up pretences. He didn’t hate Simon, and he knew he couldn’t keep up the act forever. It was basically written in stone: Neither can live while the other survives. And Baz knew, deep down, that when it came down to it, Simon had to live. And he was okay with that.

But until then, he’d take what he could get. Every night spent staring at Simon in the dark, like the vampire he was supposed to be, everyday spent constructing fantasies in his head that were not only improbable but impossible. 

Baz knew he was doomed to counting the moles on Simon’s face, taking what he could, and trying to wank away his feelings. Spoiler alert: It didn’t work. But did it stop Baz from trying? Not even close. The summer of his fifth year he’d wanked so many times over Simon that he’d basically become an orgasm addict. He’d gone back to school that fall, only to discover that it’d had no effect and he was still in love with Simon as he was before the summer started, perhaps even more. 

Baz, apparently, had no dignity as he pushed himself off from the sink, stripped down, and stepped under the shower’s warm stream of water. He cursed himself for leaving his wand inside his coat as he couldn’t tamper with the school’s subpar water heating. He didn’t mind too much however, it was warmer than he usually was anyway, and he supposed that’d have to do.

As the water ran down in rivulets down his front, he slowly trailed his sudsy hand down his front, softly passing his fingers through the hairs at the base of his navel in an attempt to stop himself from thinking. It worked a bit as he let out an involuntary shiver, his breathing becoming shallower as his hand trailed further down. He felt his heartbeat in his ears as he teased the head of his cock. 

He passed the precum that had gathered there between his thumb and forefinger, spreading it, along with soap, onto his shaft. He gave a slow tug with a firm hand and slowly began to fuck his own hand. He was pathetic.

Once he’d gotten close, he slowed his pace down. He had time.

He switched to slower, harder strokes as he teased his nipples with his cold finger tips. He wasn’t exceptionally sensitive in his nipples, but it added much needed stimuli. He was basically pulsing in his own hand as he itched to come. Just as his balls tightened, he stopped stroking and gripped the base of his cock, watching as it twitched helplessly. Needily.

Baz was abruptly interrupted as Simon knocked on the door.

“Hurry up, Baz!” Simon called. Baz cringed, immediately letting go of his cock, only to have it brush against the shower walls, bringing him inexplicably closer to climax. 

“Go away,” Baz called out, doing an astounding job of keeping the impending orgasm out of his voice.

Baz threw caution to the wind as he gave his cock another firm stroke. He was so, so close. 

“Baz!” Simon called again, knocking once more.

“Wait your turn!” Baz called back, barely keeping a moan out of his voice. 

Silence. 

Baz took that as a cue to continue to bring himself to orgasm. He braced his forearm against the shower walls as he pumped his cock aggressively.

Then, he came. Hot and quick. His cum shooting against the shower curtain in creamy rivulets that could be passed off as conditioner, except it definitely didn’t smell like bergamot.

However, right as Baz came, Simon shouted out, an “I’m coming in!” as he opened the bathroom door and stepped in. Baz immediately felt a gust of cool air and panicked.

“Get out!” he barked, loud and furious. Very unlike himself, but drastic times call for drastic measures. 

Simon was apparently having none of it as he took that as his cue to reach through his boxers and pull out his cock as he began to pee into the toilet without even lifting the seat. Baz scrambled to adjust the shower curtains to make sure he was showing no skin, but inexplicably stopped himself. 

As Simon pissed, Baz looked down at himself, and calculated the curtain angle to make sure that only his top half, from his navel up was exposed. 

_This is a terrible idea_ , commented Baz’s mind. For once, he didn’t disagree, but it didn’t stop him.

“I’ll be right out, hold up,” Simon said, only mildly apologetic. However, as Simon said this, he appeared to forget that Baz was showering behind him as he turned around after tucking himself in and froze.

At that moment, the logical thing for any normal person to do in that situation would be to turn right around and rush out of the bathroom. However, Simon was neither logical, nor normal, as he decided he wasn’t going to leave nor turn away, and simply stood stock still, just looking. Staring.

Baz swallowed his nerves and gave Simon a look as he said, in a low and sultry tone, “my, aren’t we quite the voyeur” 

Simon’s shock was quickly wiped away with a frown as he replied, “no I’m not,” as if he wasn’t a walking, well, watching, contradiction. Baz supposed it was fair that he’d be staring. He was quite fit, after all.

As Baz continued to burn his gaze into Simon, Simon’s own eyes suddenly glinted, as if he’d found the perfect response. “You can't blame me. If anything you’re an exhibitionist, I happen to be nothing but at the wrong place at the wrong time” 

Baz had to admit, that was a solid hit. But, he could hit harder.

“‘Nothing but at the wrong place at the wrong time’,” Baz quoted back, tsking, “Honestly, I didn’t take you for a liar Snow, I distinctly remember _you_ walking in on _me_ ,” _wanking_ , Baz nearly added to his sentence. But Simon didn’t need to know that.

Baz shifted slightly as he realized the curtain was clinging to his cock. Oh Merlin.

Baz froze. Simon frowned converged so quickly into a knowing grin that Baz almost got whiplash.

Simon knew. Baz didn’t know. Baz didn’t know that Simon knew. Simon had been talking to Baz for the last five minutes while Baz’s cock clung to the shower curtains. 

Simon looked up at Baz, his eyebrow cocked slightly. He looked as if he’d just won a million scones. And in some ways, Baz realized he just had.

“My, Baz,” Simon gestured vaguely towards Baz’s cock as he mimicked Baz’s aristocratic drawl, “quite the exhibitionist, if you wanted an audience so badly, you could’ve just asked.”

Baz clenched his fists, both in frustration, and arousal as Simon spoke. In a bout of frustration, he spat out, “well, apparently I didn’t even have to ask. Make yourself at home.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed “fine.”

Baz started, shocked, nearly losing his footing on the slippery shower floor. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, I’ll give you an audience,” Simon said, crossing his arms across his chest, attempting to look imposing, but Baz could see the uncertainty in the way he looked. As if he’d drop his arms in a single word. Either way, it was a challenge, and Baz wasn’t known for backing out of challenges. 

“Okay,” Baz replied, knowing he wasn’t going to be the first one to back out of whatever game they were playing, “I’ll give you something to look at.”

A beat passed, Baz slowly reached out to turn off the shower faucet, Simon jumped slightly. Baz raised an eyebrow at Simon, it appeared he was doing a lot of that.

“Scared, Snow?” he asked.

“You wish, Pitch,” Simon replied, adjusting his stance so he appeared more casual. The tension in his shoulders told another tale. Baz thought it was quite brave of him, considering as Baz himself was internally combusting. However, despite that, he stared Simon down. Since he was feeling difficult he reached his arm up, passing it through his own hair, grinning as he saw Simon flinched back.

“All talk and no bite,” Baz commented offhandedly as he pushed aside all qualms and grabbed his towel, wrapping it around his waist as he pulled the shower curtain back and made to get out of the shower.

But, before he stepped out, Simon reached out and grabbed him by his arm. Baz almost physically jolted but contained himself, schooling his face into an appraising yet mocking tableau, complete with an eyebrow raise. 

“My…” Baz trailed off meaningfully, his eyes glancing down to where Simon was gripping his bicep. As he did so, he felt Simon’s grip loosen minutely. “So forward,” he teased, leaning minutely closer into Simon. He thought he could smell sour cherry scones on Simon’s breath. "Is this how you tried it with Niall?"

Simon's hesitant look converged into a frown, “I-”

But, whatever Simon was going to say was cut off abruptly as they heard a rap at the door. Baz jumped backwards so harshly he nearly slipped. Simon followed in tow, releasing his grip from Baz’s arm and jumping back as if he’d been burned. The irony.

However, that rap at the door also seemed to bring Baz to his senses. He was standing nearly naked in a steamy bathroom with none other that Simon propositioning him. At least, that was what he thought was happening. 

He didn’t know how he let it get so far. If anything was about to happen, it would mean nothing except a chance to explore his sexuality for Simon, and if not that, a chance to blow off some steam. Nothing more. Baz didn’t know if he could live with that. Who was he kidding, he would take anything he could get. But, sadly, his self control got ahold of him as he frowned at Simon and clearly enunciated: “Get. out.” 

Simon took a step back, his eyes playing out surprise, confusion, and… hurt? 

“Baz, I-”

Another rap, this time followed by: “Simon!” Bunce. Damn that girl. 

“Get out,” repeated Baz.

Simon stumbled out, nearly tripping over his own feet as he shut the bathroom door behind him. 

Baz slumped against the shower wall, feeling more than aroused and emotionally spent, unsure as to whether he wanted to wank or cry in relief. 

-

After Penelope left, Baz had taken what seemed like three hours getting dressed for bed. At the end he’d figured there were only so many times he could brush his teeth as he emerged from the bathroom to see Simon sitting against the wall of his bed with Muse playing softly from his phone--a present from the Mage, much likely.

The moment Baz opened the door, Simon jolted to attention. 

“Baz-”

“Save it,” Baz said, in a bout of self control and self preservation as he rummaged around his closet. He entertained the notion of what would happen if he dropped his aloof act and let the conversation happen. He wondered why he was feeling up an aloof act in the first place. Would they just talk? If not, how far would they go? Did Simon regret what almost happen. Merlin. Baz would rather not hear any of it. How much would it break him to be Simon’s little sexual experiment if not Friend With Benefits?

It wouldn’t just break him. It’d shatter him. He’d spent enough time internally pining after Simon, he’d thought he was better than that. He thought he’d be beyond that at this point, but apparently not. It was always one step forwards and two steps back with himself. 

“Look, I’m sorry-”

“Okay,” Baz snapped, throwing his dirty clothes into the laundry. Of course Simon was sorry. Why wouldn't he be. He suddenly was overcome with the urge to punch himself in the face, or maybe Simon. Maybe he could just jump out of the window Simon liked to keep open so much into the jaws of a merwolf.

“What?” Simon asked, genuine confusion in his voice. Baz gave him a look that indicated that he thought Simon was being incredibly thick. A silence lingered between them until Simon frowned, and leaned back against his bed, tapping away at his phone, apparently dropping the conversation for good.

Baz exhaled breathily, attempting to get his heart rate to a reasonable level before bed.

Even after Baz turned the lights off and sunk into his bed he couldn’t go to bed for another half hour. But, Simon was a whole other story as Baz could feel Simon’s gaze on him as the end notes of Feeling Good rang out quietly in the cold night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this don't forget to leave kudos and comments. Thanks, mates.


	3. What Do I Get?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, whatever you were about to say, do it”  
> Simon raised an eyebrow, badly. “Do what?”  
> Baz steeled his nerves. “Kiss me.”  
> And then, he kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I love these idiots.
> 
> TW: sexual content. If you don't like that, then you probably won't like most of this chapter or story.

The next few days passed in stony silence from Baz’s end.

He didn’t speak to Simon, in fact, didn’t speak much at all. At dinner he let Dev and Niall carry on with their own conversation with Baz interjecting when he deigned it necessary. He didn’t know if they genuinely didn’t notice, or were too well bred to bring it up. Good men through and through they were.

Baz tried to avoid his and Simon’s shared room until late at night, when he was dead bored of stalking around the White Chapel listening to his playlists and draining the occasional rat and of sitting alone in the library reading through whichever books caught his eyes. Even he could admit there was such a thing as too much Magickal Theory reading to be done in a day.

He'd been in the library for so long that he'd started to go a bit nutty as he thought the books appeared to thicken in length as time passed. Or maybe that was Baz’s boredom translating into delusion. Either way, by the time he returned to their room he was thoroughly spent and right about ready to pass out onto his, admittedly cold, bed. 

However, his sleep was delayed as he entered to find none other than Simon, standing in nothing but pants in their room, his skin flushed with heat from what Baz presumed to be his shower as his hair was thoroughly wet. Either that or… Baz didn’t even know how to complete that thought. 

“Baz,” Simon said, his eyes widening as he quickly pulled on the first shirt in his vicinity. Baz’s shirt. The shirt Baz had slept in. All Baz could do was stare, transfixed. He couldn’t help but admire how Simon’s broad shoulders and bulkier arms filled in his shirt. Where Simon was strong and rounded, Baz was cultivated and sharp. But somehow, Simon made it work. 

Baz felt something hot and prickly brewing in his chest--like impending doom with a side of butterflies. 

“You could change in the bathroom, you know,” Baz said, cursing himself for breaking the silence he’d held up for the past three days. He was always weak when it came to Simon, anyways.

Simon’s eyes searched Baz’s own. His chest rose evenly, making his chest fill out Baz’s shirt better. However, apparently he did or didn’t what he was looking for as eyes narrowed slightly and said, “I know.”

A silence lingered heavy and tangible between them, the only sounds in their room being their own breathing and the ticking of the clock upon the wall. For what felt like hours they stood in their room, both apprehensive. 

Then, “do you want your shirt back?”

Baz felt his breath stop. Was this a test? 

“Yes,” Baz said, a bit breathier than he’d sounded not two seconds before. He didn’t know why he was feeling so suddenly arrested for breath.

Simon’s eyes glinted with challenge and determination as he slowly reached down to pull his shirt over and off of him. As he did so Baz’s eyes fixed upon Simon’s torso. Smooth, even skin for miles, at least it seemed that way. He couldn’t help but notice how Simon’s muscles shifted under his skin as he moved, ripples on calm water. He couldn't look away. 

Baz wondered what would happen if he reached out and passed his hands over Simon’s torso, settling his hands around Simon’s waist and pulling him closer to him, into a kiss, one where you don’t pull back for breath until it’s absolutely necessary. One where the other person is your air. Your life force, and Crowley, was Simon full of life. 

“Here,” Baz was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts as Simon was holding his shirt outstretched to him. Baz swallowed as he accepted his shirt. Then, “Baz?”

Baz froze, his shirt held in a deathgrip between his hands. 

“Yes?” Baz asked, feeling a bit like a numpty. Baz couldn’t help but notice that Simon was closer than he was ten seconds ago.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You already did.”

“Can I ask you another question?” 

Baz hesitated, then, “yes.”

“Are you gay?” What a way to ruin the mood, but someone, it wasn't simultaneously. Simon had a strange glint in his eyes, it didn’t seem antagonistic. Apprehension, perhaps? 

Baz considered a few responses, varying from blatant lies to outright confessions: “ _No_.” or “ _I don’t know, am I?_ ” or even, “ _I love you_.” neither of which Baz thought Simon would appreciate or reciprocate to. 

Baz regarded Simon for a moment. His body said battle but his eyes spoke of hesitation and curiosity. Perhaps vulnerability. What did he have to be vulnerable about? But, in a sudden burst of honesty and insanity, Baz replied, “Yes, I’m gay.”

A silence. There appeared to be a lot of silence between them lately. 

“Can I-” Simon stopped, his hands shoved into his pockets. Suddenly he frowned and worried his lip between his teeth, “nevermind, it was a dumb idea.”

Baz’s ran on autopilot as it rushed to complete the phrase. But the words _Can I kiss you?_ glowed neon red in Baz’s mind. Baz threw caution to the wind and replied, “yes, you can.”

Simon frowned, “you don’t know what I was about to say,” he said, pulling his hands out of his own pockets and crossing them across his chest, stepping closer to Baz who was shifting nervously. Pitches didn’t shift nervously.

“Well, whatever you were about to say, do it” 

Simon raised an eyebrow, badly. “Do what?”

Baz steeled his nerves. “Kiss me.” 

And then, he kissed him. 

It started off slow, and uncertain. It was a simple press of lip, contact, and nothing more. They kept their arms to themselves until Baz caved and set his hands upon Simon’s waist, pulling him in closer. Simon placed a hand on the nape of Baz’s neck and another on the edge of Baz’s jeans, looping a finger through a belt loop. 

Simon’s lips were warm and Baz thought he could feel the warmth of Simon’s fingers where his belt loop was. Maybe he was delusional.

Baz’s breath caught as Simon warily passed his tongue over Baz’s bottom lip. Simon’s tongue warily explored Baz’s mouth as their tongues danced together. He thought he was going to catch on fire. 

He shivered as Simon passed his thumb over his hip bone. He pulled Simon impossibly closer and tangled his fingers in his hair. He’d never get another chance like this one. He was going to make the best of it. 

“Baz,” Simon murmured as he pulled his lips away for a moment to look into Baz’s eyes. They were so blue. Baz didn’t know how to respond to that so he played with the curls at the nape of Simon’s head and kissed the mole on the side of his neck. The one he'd been wanting to kiss since their fifth year.

Simon’s face flickered with surprise for a moment before he tilted Baz’s head back and began kissing across his jaw. Baz had to hold back what would’ve been the human equivalent of a purr as Simon licked his collarbones. 

“Bed,” Baz said, not quite knowing quite how much he was implying as his fingers tightened in Simon’s hair. Nonetheless Simon nodded and pulled Baz back by his sweater and fell on his bed with Baz in tow. However, Baz being on top didn’t last as Simon was quick to flip them over so that he was on top of him and in an ideal position to attack Baz’s neck. 

Simon’s fingers played with the hem of Baz’s sweater, “take it off,” he said, mumbled as he splayed his hand across Baz’s stomach. It felt way better than Baz was willing to admit, especially against the chill in their room. But even that didn't matter.

In a spur of confidence Baz said, “make me,” raising an eyebrow with Simon who’d pulled up level with him.

“Okay,” Simon replied, and before Baz knew what was happening Simon was pulling his sweater up over his head. He tossed the sweater onto Baz’s bed and trailed his fingers over Baz’s chest. Baz was suddenly very grateful for the years spent running around playing football.

Baz hummed and pulled Simon down into a kiss. It was fueled and intense, brimming with years of pent up sexual tension. He tried not to think about how there’d probably never be another repeat.

Simon shifted as he kissed him and trailed his fingers across Baz’s chest, their crotches brushed and Baz jolted. Simon’s eyes widened and he pulled his lips away from Baz as if he’d been burned. The irony. 

Simon’s eyes passed over Baz who could only imagine what he looked like. They’d only been snogging for a few minutes, but if the state of Simon’s hair was anything to go by, Baz guessed he wasn’t too far off from looking like Simon. 

“Do you want this?” Simon asked as his fingers trailed towards Baz’s waistband. If Baz didn’t have the a raging hard-on he’d be rolling his eyes at Simon. Was he really that thick? Of course he wanted this. He’d wanted this since he could remember.

“Yes,” Baz said, swallowing as his voice came out hoarser than he thought it would’ve.

Simon smiled and flung himself back into the task at hand, literally as he quickly pulled Baz’s shoes off and unbuttoned his trousers, ordering Baz to take them off. Baz didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled his trousers off and threw them onto his bed in a fervor. Simon’s eyes didn’t leave him for a second as he did so. His pupils were dark and dilated and his breathing became more uneven as trailed his fingers over Baz’s thighs, causing goosebumps to erupt over Baz’s skin. He didn’t even know his skin could do that. 

“What do you want?” 

Merlin, Simon didn’t know what he was asking Baz. He wanted so much.

“Anything,” Baz said, pulling Simon down by the nape of his neck into a kiss.

They disconnected far too early, Baz immediately missed the warmth of Simon’s lips.

“That’s not an answer.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Baz,” Simon trailed his fingers up and down Baz’s thighs. Baz shivered.

“Snow.”

Simon rolled his eyes and began to pull away. Baz panicked and pulled him down into another kiss, this one more intense and brash. This time there was no slow sweetness as Baz nipped at Simon’s lower lip and held nothing back as he licked over Simon’s lip where he’d bitten. Simon didn’t seem to mind as he kissed back with equal fervor. 

As they kissed Baz settled his hands on Simon’s hips and massaged circles into his hip bones with his thumbs. Simon sighed above him so he figured he’d made the right choice. 

As Simon trailed his hands over Baz’s chest he ached in his pants. Simon trailing his fingers up and down his thighs wasn’t helping either. Baz had half a mind to pull Simon’s hand away from his thighs and press it against his crotch. Merlin, he needed it.

However, he didn’t have to ask as Simon poised his fingers between the waistband of his pants and looked up from hooded eyes, questioningly. 

“Can I?” he asked, trailing his fingers along the waistband. Baz’s breath hitched.

He didn’t trust himself to speak so he nodded. He could only imagine what he looked like, flushed, aroused, hard. All for Simon fucking Snow. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Simon tugged down Baz’s pants and tossed them beside him. Simon held nothing back. He did everything with a kind of brash confidence that Baz could only hope to have one day. 

Baz’s dick sprung free, hard and waiting. Somehow even more blood managed to flood Baz’s cheeks as Simon gingerly wrapped his hands around his dick and tugged lazily. Baz bit back a moan.

Simon took the opportunity to lean forward and kiss Baz almost immediately pulling back to mouth at Baz’s neck, biting down on his collarbone all while tugging off Baz. 

Baz trembled as Simon passed his thumb over the tip of his dick. Baz let out a breathy groan. Simon took notice as he jerked Baz quicker and firmer, making sure to pass his thumb over the tip every time he went down.

A surge of confidence went through Baz as he pulled his hands away from Simon’s hips and one handed pulled down Simon’s pants, letting his erect cock spring free. 

“Can I?” Baz panted into Simon’s ear. Simon gulped. 

“Merlin, please,” Simon said, tugging at Baz with a fervor. 

Baz hesitated for a moment before trailing his fingers up the underside of Simon’s shaft. Simon shivered above him, letting a small moan into Baz’s ear that almost pushed him over the edge. 

Baz didn’t trust himself to say anything in case he ruined the moment as he wrapped his hand firmly around Simon’s dick. Simon’s hand stuttered over Baz’s dick as he did so, Baz took it as a good sign and tugged in tune to Simon’s pants in his ear. 

“Fuck Baz,” he moaned, nosing between Baz’s neck and collarbone. Apparently that was all it took to drive Baz over the edge as he bit back a moan as he came hot and quick over Simon’s hand. Simon didn’t seem to mind as he stroked Baz through his orgasm. Sparks flashed behind Baz’s eyes, but he didn’t let it stop him from pushing Simon to the verge of orgasm.

Before he knew it Simon was cumming into Baz’s hand. He felt him pulse hot and quick into his palm. He had so much control over him it was intoxicating. Or maybe it was the other way around. 

Either way Baz stroked Simon through his orgasm. As Simon rode out his orgasm Baz steeled his nerves and in a surge of confidence brought his hand up from Simon’s dick, made sure he had Simon’s attention, and licked a stripe of Simon’s cum off of his hand. 

“Jesus Fuck, Baz,” Simon laughed breathily, rolling off of Baz onto the bed next to him, “you can’t do things like that.”

“And why not?” 

“I literally just came, it should be illegal to get me hard again that quickly,” Simon said curling up to Baz’s side, resting his head on Baz’s shoulder. Baz revelled in the body heat Simon was giving off, wrapping his free arm around Simon’s shoulder. 

Baz laughed, free and unrestrained. He wondered if Simon could feel his voice vibrating through his chest. 

“If I knew that was what it took to get you riled up I would’ve tried it a long time ago,” Baz confessed. He didn’t care anymore. It was their last year, and he didn't have anything left to lose except his dignity. 

He was so relaxed and content laying in Simon’s bed with his head on his shoulder that if Simon asked him if he loved him he wouldn’t trust himself to deny it. He tried to recall when his life tilted so far off its axis that Simon Snow somehow became his impromptu friend with benefits. 

His train of thought was cut off as Simon rested his hand upon Baz’s chest and began tracing patterns over it. 

“Hey, Baz?”

“Yeah,” Baz responded, his voice laced with post-coital fatigue, leaning his chin on top of Simon’s head (he still had a good two inches on the complete disaster).

“I think I’m bisexual.”

Baz couldn’t help it. He laughed, rich and unrestrained. Merlin, he was turning into Simon.

“You know what Snow, I think you are, too,” Baz replied, trailing his fingers over Simon’s arm to the tune of a song by the Arctic Monkeys his aunt liked to play.

Simon didn’t say anything for a while, he just lay nestled into Baz. Merlin, he was in Simon’s bed, after having sex with him. This must be some kind of extremely vivid wet dream.

Baz lifted his free hand and flicked it, willing the lights to turn off. They listened. He never imagined this was how Christmas Eve was going to be for him, but it was more than he could’ve asked for. Outside the window Baz could see the snow falling gently past their window, and the full moon illuminating the sky. It was perfect. 

He pulled blankets over himself and Simon, trying not to disturb him. Even Simon’s body heat wasn’t enough to get him through winter. Nonetheless, he settled his chin over Simon’s head and closed his eyes, willing sleep to take him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sigh*
> 
> It feels good to get this story out there. This is just pure self-indulgence on my part, honestly--write the stories you want to read, and all that.
> 
> Anyway, don't forget to comment and leave kudos if you enjoyed this! I'll be back Wednesday with a new chapter.


	4. I Belong To You (+Mon Cœur S'ouvre a ta Voix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon exhaled audibly, “then, let’s talk.”  
> “What’s there to talk about?” Baz replied, pulling his arm out of Simon’s grip and crossing his arms over his chest.
> 
> In other words, Baz freaks out, shit goes down, Baz freaks out pt. 2, then Baz nearly dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, can you tell I love these boys yet? I hope you do to.
> 
> Anyways, the chapter is titled after a Muse song whose title I think fits the chapter well. Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk. <3

The next morning, the first thing Baz felt was Simon's arms around him and immediately after a seizing panic. 

He didn’t breathe, he didn’t move. He lay still, hoping that Simon didn’t wake up and inevitably get up and leave. He didn’t know if he could bear it if he did. 

Even so, Simon was so warm, and the world outside was so cold, he didn’t want to get up. Sometime along the course of the night they’d shifted so that Simon was spooning him, his warm arms wrapped around Baz. To top it off, they’d intertwined their hands and legs overnight. It was a sight to behold. 

Sunlight was shining in softly through the window, hitting Baz’s skin and warming him from the inside out. He’d realized he thought a lot about heat. He didn’t know if it was because he was so cold or because Simon was so warm. Perhaps both. 

However nothing gold can stay, so of course, Simon woke up. 

Simon woke up was a whole three act play. Baz heard him yawn behind him and swallow. 

However, against everything Baz was expecting, he didn’t let go. Quite the opposite as he tightened his arms around Baz and pressed a kiss against the back of his neck. 

“I know you’re awake,” Simon murmured into Baz’s ear, causing him to jolt at being addressed. 

“How’d you know?”

“I could practically feel the tension rolling off of you.”

Baz scoffed, “I’m always tense.”

“You weren’t last night,” Simon teased, biting Baz’s earlobe. He held back a shudder.

“Crowley Simon, we just got up,” nonetheless Baz untangled himself from Simon so that he was facing him. Simon didn’t hesitate to lean over him and kiss him. 

It wasn’t like the kisses they’d shared the night before. Not at all. This was and sweet and slow like honey. As if Simon actually liked him. As if he loved him. 

Baz came to his senses and pulled away from Simon abruptly, sitting up and making to walk away. “I have to-”

“Wait,” Simon grabbed his arm, “we have all morning, it's Christmas Eve.”

Baz could feel his face closing off again. 

“No we don’t,” he’d decided he was going to be difficult. Being in love with Simon Snow was one thing. Being in love with Simon Snow and having casual sex was another thing. A thing he wasn’t going to make the mistake of doing again. He’d decided he didn’t want it if it wasn’t real. He couldn’t do it.

He knew it would destroy him. Perhaps it already had. The suggestion of truth was better than a lie. 

Simon exhaled audibly, “then, let’s talk.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Baz replied, pulling his arm out of Simon’s grip and crossing his arms over his chest. He realized the imposing effect was dulled by the fact that he was naked and freezing. 

Simon blinked up at him, he passed a hand through his curls the way he did when he was frustrated. 

“We just had sex,” Simon said, gesturing between them, “people usually talk after that. Or you know, leave a number or something.”

Baz frowned. _Leave a number_ , what did that have to do with anything.

“We hate each other,” Baz said flatly. He didn't hate Simon, so it was a half-lie. 

“I don’t hate you, Baz,” Simon said, looking up into his eyes. They were open and honest. How could he look at him like that? As if he cared? 

Nonetheless, Baz sighed and uncrossed his arms, letting them fall to his sides. He felt exposed in more than one way. He weighed his cards before he replied, “I don’t hate you, either Snow.” He supposed he’d made that obvious last night.

“You called me Simon earlier,” Simon said, frowning up at Baz. Besides his better judgement Baz sat on the edge of Simon’s bed. 

“No, I didn’t,” Baz lied. 

“You lie a lot,” Simon pointed out.

A few replies came to mind, including _‘you truth a lot_ ’, however Baz just sighed.

“I know,” Baz admitted, sighing as Simon reached up and passed his fingers through Baz’s hair, making a shiver go down his spine. Why was Simon so soft all of a sudden. He’d only started questioning his sexuality a few days ago, was he just copying what he used to do with Agatha? The thought made Baz want to crawl out of his skin. Used affection.

Then, like a flame going off in a dark room, Simon asked the right question for once in his life, “ _Why_?” 

Fuck, Simon had definitely put magic into that. However, it didn’t matter whether he’d meant it or not as Baz’s mouth moved faster than he could stop it.

“I love you,” it ripped its way out of his throat. Harsher than life and like a thousand knives it all came up. It wasn’t how he’d expected to announce it, all somber smiles and tear stained eyes, it was ragged and true. His hand flew up to cover his mouth in fear of saying anything else. But the damage was done.

Simon’s eyes widened. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. Merlin’s tits. Baz was going to burst into flames and die. Fuck, he’d missed the his chance. He could’ve easily played it off. Fuck. It was too late now. Truth will out. And it just bloody did.

“Baz-” Simon tried putting a hand on his arm but Baz pulled away and quickly pulled on a pair of pants, trousers, grabbed a sweater and shoes and ran out of Mummer’s house. He ran and ran until he could no longer hear Simon’s voice behind him. 

He ran until he couldn’t breathe.

And then, he ran some more.

Nothing would ever go right for Baz.

Nothing.

-

Spending Christmas Eve in the catacombs was not at all how Baz expected his holidays to go.

He hadn't gone home on purpose because Daphne and his dad were on a holiday in France, and he'd either go to France with them and intrude, or stay at Pitch Manor with Fiona, babysitting for Christmas. Neither of which were pleasant options.

He figured Watford was the safest bet. Before Simon decided to be there for Christmas. Before his entire life got turned on its head. Best case scenario he’d expected to be in his room, alone, listening to those Muse songs Simon liked, taking in the soft smells of the sour cherry scones from Simon’s side of the room, and playing his violin to the Merwolves like the gaunt, tormented vampire he was supposed to be.

He didn’t know which bothered him more: the humiliation of the actual confession, or the fact that his plans to dramatically tell Simon he loved him as he got run through with a sword at their final battle were foiled. 

He didn’t spend eight years of his life being in love with Simon, just to have it ripped away from him. Now he couldn't even love him, because he would know. It was all for naught. All those years spent ‘hating’ Simon. Wasted. He couldn’t exactly hate someone now that said person knew he was desperately in love with him. It didn’t work that way for Baz. For him it was all tragically and dramatically pining. Or maybe even lusting. But not loving. Not loving if he knew. He was so sure that Simon was going to throw it all back in his face. But he quickly pushed the thought down, Simon wouldn’t do that to him. Would he?

After all, it wasn’t that Simon was an unlovable person. Far from it. To Baz, Simon was the sun falling on your skin during a winter’s day. He was the feeling of drinking tea when you couldn’t feel your toes. He was everything good and warm in the world, and Baz was so very cold.

All that was left now was to die, or pace around the catacombs forever. He was dead after all. He was a vampire. Now it was back to fantasties of Simon setting him on fire. 

Because if Baz knew one thing, it was that this would end in flames.

-

**Simon**

“Baz!” Simon growled, kicking a pile of rat bones in frustration. 

He’d been wandering around the catacombs for two hours now. It was so cold, but he couldn’t quit now. He was starting to lose feeling in his toes and he couldn't feel his nose, but he had to find Baz. He knew he had to. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he found him, but he knew he needed to find Baz. 

“ _Come out, come out, wherever you are_ ,” Simon cast, his teeth clenched together to keep them from chattering against the freezing cold. It was a risky spell as the last time he’d done it two years ago, a horde of rats had come running up to him, but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

He’d ran out after Baz five minutes after he’d left. 

He swore hadn’t meant to put magic into the words, it’d just happened. But after he’d said the words, he couldn’t take them back, and neither could Baz. 

Merlin. He hadn’t been expecting Baz to say that. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting Baz to say. 

Not only because it was Baz, but also because he’d spent so many years thinking Baz hated him. Hell, he’d spent so many years hating Baz, no, thinking he hated Baz. Convincing himself he hated Baz. He didn’t know he could ever stop. He’d thought they’d both go down during their ultimate fight where they’d go neck and neck. He always knew Baz would be the victor. He was always so much better, stronger, smarter, fitter than him. What did he have except a fancy title that told him he was the Chosen One. He was chosen to fail. He’d never get anything right.

He was terrible at relationships, even when they weren’t relationships.

He needed to find Baz and… what? Apologize? Maybe he’d accidently cast a spell that made Baz lie to him. That’d explain it. Baz didn’t love him. Did he?

-

**Baz**

“Baz!” 

Simon’s voice resonated loud and clear through the catacombs. 

“ _Come out, come out, wherever you are_ ,” fuck. Baz felt a pull in his gut, almost as strong as it’d been the first time the crucible had cast him and Simon together. The problem was that the spell only worked if the searched party wanted to be found, and Baz wasn’t sure if he wanted to be found or not.

Baz reached for his wand, and for the fiftieth time that afternoon he’d been rudely reminded that he’d forgotten it in his and Simon’s room. Along with a proper shirt. It was probably below freezing in the catacombs, but all Baz had was a pair of doc martens, a pair of basic trousers, and a sweater. He was probably going to go into hypothermic shock if he didn’t get out of the catacombs soon. But that would mean having to get past Simon, and Crowley knew that confronting Simon was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. 

He didn’t even have his wand to cast heating spells. All he could do was drain a rat everytime he felt his body freezing and hope it staved off the cold. However, he’d drained so many rats that he desperately needed to piss, and he wasn’t about to stoop down to the level of drunks that piss against pub walls, especially since this wasn’t a pub, and above all, his mother’s grave was here. He was trapped between a wall and a hard place, so to speak.

He was so tired, and cold, and he couldn’t leave. Perhaps if he just took a nap he’d feel better. He’d just take a quick rest. Yes. That sounded like a sound idea. 

So, he slid down the walls of the catacomb, his sweater snagging against the ridges of the skulls on the walls, tucked his knees up to his chest, and closed his eyes. 

He welcomed the cold.

He welcomed the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I live to see another chapter. Lemme know what you think. 
> 
> :)
> 
> This is Alice, signing off.


	5. Undisclosed Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t mind that you love me,” Simon said, assured. 
> 
> Baz considered throwing himself out the window, but he couldn’t as Simon had placed his hand on top of Baz’s. He couldn’t move, even if he tried. 
> 
> “Merlin, congratulations,” Baz said flatly. He felt exposed. All his secrets laid bare, and yet Simon had given nothing up. He had nothing to lose. Baz had everything and nothing to lose.
> 
> -
> 
> In other words: Part five of the thrilling saga of These Boys Are Idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I said I was gonna post Saturdays and Wednesdays, and I bloody posted Saturdays and Wednesdays. It feels good to meet deadlines. Now, if only I could start doing the same thing for homework.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this! 
> 
> P.S. Hi Lyn and Gabby. :)

**Simon**

When Simon finally finds Baz, he didn’t even know it was him.

He looked a bit like a numpty, cold, grey, and balled up. But the dark locks of hair lying against his neck were a dead giveaway.

Baz.

“Baz!” no reply. He doesn’t even stir. Is he dead?

He drops Baz’s wand on the ground and kneels next to Baz, taking his shoulders in his hands and shakes him. His head lolls to the side. His shoulders are so cold. 

He’s not...dead? He can’t be.

Simon picks up the wand from where it lays on the stone floor and casts **You’re Getting Warmer** at least ten times. When he picks up Baz’s face in his hands, his cheeks are flush, but his eyes are closed. This is a start. He places his fingers against his neck and tries to find a pulse.

There. He’s alive.

Simon tucks his wand away and carefully nudges his hands under Baz’s arms to pick him up. He’s heavier that he’d thought he’d be. He doesn’t think. He just tosses Baz’s body over his shoulder and runs as fast as he can to Mummer’s House, stumbling and nearly tripping quite a few times.

He doesn’t think about it when his ankle twists nastily, or about when a lightning bolt of pain shoots through it, he doesn’t think about the cold going through his hands, or Baz’s cold, body draped over his shoulder. 

He just runs. 

He owes that much to Baz.

-

**Baz**

He wakes up to Simon’s and Penelope’s whispers. 

Simon is sitting on his bed eating scones, and Penelope is trying to read some kind of book about Goblins. They keep whispering back and forth. If Baz wasn’t so tired, he could probably hear what they were saying. 

He’s back in their room, and the sun is streaming in golden through the window, illuminating their room in a heavenly glow. He’s in his own bed. He can’t tell that much by the smell. He smells like bergamot and cedar. That’s because of his soap. The soap Simon once mentioned he liked when they were in third year. Baz told himself he was wearing it to taunt Simon. Even then Baz had known that was a lie.

Baz’s eyes slowly adjusted to the light and opened bit by bit and his breathing sped up. Simon took notice. His eyes widened and he jumped up from where he’d been sitting to kneel next to Baz’s bed.

“Jesus, Baz,” Simon cursed like a Normal when he was distraught, “I thought you were dead,” if Baz squinted, he swore he could see a bit of red rimming Simon’s eyes, as if he was crying, or perhaps very tired. He didn’t know which was worse. 

Oh Merlin, he hoped Simon didn’t cry because he was absolute shit at dealing with people who were crying. A few years ago Mordelia had been crying about a Disney movie, Baz tried explaining to her that Disney princess weren’t actually real and were actually based upon their great-great-grandfather Grimm’s tales. That, of course, had made her start sobbing. Ever since then, Baz tried to keep his distance from crying people. 

However, at the moment Baz couldn’t exactly move as he couldn’t feel most of his body. To top it off, Simon had thought it to be a great idea to hold Baz’s hand as he stuttered away. 

“Crowley, Snow,” Baz rasped, his voice rusty with disuse, “I’m not dead,” _well, not technically,_ Baz’s mind added. Baz didn’t appreciate the addition. 

“Well, you could be!” Simon said dropping Baz’s hand in favor of pacing around their room, Baz noted, with a limp. 

Penelope was sitting with her legs crossed on Baz’s chair, watching the scene unfold. Baz raised an eyebrow at her, she raised one back. She was always too clever for her own good. Either that or Simon told her they’d shagged and then Baz had an emotional breakdown. Crowley, worded like that he’d prefer Penelope make up her own little narrative. Something that didn’t enjoy him completely losing it.

She seemed oblivious to his inner turmoil as she shrugged, setting the book down in her lap. In was an ugly color. 

“Technically, you ruined Boxing day, but I’m glad to be out for a bit. Simon called me at about one in the morning blubbering about how you’d died. I figured that was enough reason to come,” behind her Simon had calmed down and was sitting on his bed, nibbling on a scone that he’d abandoned when Baz had woken up. It seemed to come from a plate Simon had reserved for Baz when he woke up. 

It served as a reminder of how hungry Baz was, and at that moment. His stomach decided to let out a whale call. He just sighed in defeat. 

Penelope gave him a knowing look and stood up, she leaned down to whisper something into Simon’s ear. Simon blushed. Baz didn’t even want to know. 

“Get well soon, Basil, oh, and good luck with Simon, he’s been talking my ear off all morning.” 

She picked up her bag that had been lying on Simon’s bed, shouldered it, and walked out the door, closing it behind her. The door seemed to echo with the realization that he and Simon were alone again. It was so quiet Baz could hear little guitar noises coming from Simon’s headphones. He’d bet fifty pence it was Muse, again.

“Baz,” Simon started awkwardly. 

Merlin’s tits. Simon was trying to talk to him. 

If Baz had anymore energy, he’d get up and defenestrate himself. However, he didn’t, so instead he closed his eyes and pointedly tried to ignore Simon. The operating word was ‘trying’.

Apparently Simon didn’t get the message as he stood up in his battle pose and took the two most awkward steps Baz had ever seen anyone take towards his bed. Merlin and Morgana. 

“Can I sit here?” Simon asked Baz, gesturing towards the space on Baz’s bed, next to his thighs. However, Simon didn’t wait for a reply as he sat down and turned so that he was facing Baz. If Baz really wanted to, he could reached out and push Simon off his bed (or maybe grab him by the lapels of his coat and snog the living daylights out of him, Baz was conflicted.)

Simon really wanted to go through with this conversation. Fuck. Baz could tell by the way he was squaring his shoulders and jutting out his chin. Simon Snow was many things: Courageous, beautiful, an idiot. Tragically, stubborn was one of his charming traits, too. Sometimes Baz loved it, like the time Simon stood up to a dragon in their seventh year, however, sometimes he hated it. This was one of those times.

Baz felt so awkward staring up at Simon like a complete dunderhead that he braced himself on his elbows, mustered all his strength and pushed himself up so that he was sitting up against his headboard. Simon suddenly seemed miles away, and Baz felt as if he could breathe again. Or maybe the opposite.

However, Baz couldn’t decide as Simon took this as his cue to scoot towards Baz so that now they only had about a foot of space between them. Baz’s inability to breathe magnified tenfold.

Merlin, sometimes Baz forgot how intense Simon’s stare could be. His eyes held so much emotion, like the seven seas contained in two identical marbles. It was times like these that Baz realized how different they were. Whenever he looked in the mirror, two grey stones stared back at him. He was so dull, so cold. Unlovable.

“We need to talk,” Simon said, staring intently at Baz. 

Baz exhaled loudly and leaned his head back against his headboard. 

“We really don’t,” he tried, but he knew his efforts were for naught. When Simon committed to something, he _committed_ to it. (If only he commited to Baz).

“No,” Simon started playing with the cross on his neck, but caught himself and yanked on the chain, making it break, and tossed it onto his bed. The entire time his eyes didn’t leave Baz’s. Simon’s eyes followed the elegant column of Baz’s throat as he swallowed.

Simon seemed to consider his words before asking, no stating, “you love me.”

Time stopped.

Baz’s heart leapt into his throat. That was not how he expected this conversation to start. He felt his skin prickle, uncomfortably perhaps. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Fear? Relief? Whatever it was, Baz was unsure as to whether he liked it or not. It was like going from an extreme temperature to another extreme temperature. You felt relief for a bit, before it began to get to you.

Baz said nothing. He was afraid that if he spoke he might deny it, or even worse, confirm it. Simon’s spells were a hit or miss. He didn’t miss for once. He didn’t miss the one time it truly mattered. 

Baz closed his eyes, feeling sunlight on his eyelids for a second before tilting his head away from the headboard to meet Simon’s eyes. He didn’t know what to expect. (Anger? Disgust? Confusion?)

Instead, Simon’s face was blank, unreadable. 

No, it held an emotion, that was a lie. However, it was like reading a language you didn’t know in your alphabet. You knew it said something, but you didn’t know what it meant. 

Nonetheless, Simon’s eyes were steady on Baz’s and for a moment he swore he saw Simon’s eyes flick down to Baz’s lips. He was imagining it, he was sure. He made a mental note to Google the symptoms of Hypothermia and/or possibly Pneumonia (can vampires get pneumonia?) once his life stopped crashing down around him.

“I don’t mind it, you know,” Simon said. His voice startled both of them, as the previous moment was suspended in mutual silence, but not understanding. 

“What?” Baz asked weakly, his voice cracking. He hated himself for it. (He hated himself for a lot of things).

“I don’t mind that you love me,” Simon said, assured. 

Baz considered throwing himself out the window, but he couldn’t as Simon had placed his hand on top of Baz’s. He couldn’t move, even if he tried. 

“Merlin, congratulations,” Baz said flatly. He felt exposed. All his secrets laid bare, and yet Simon had given nothing up. He had nothing to lose. Baz had everything and nothing to lose.

“I don’t mind you’re a vampire, either,” Baz’s pulse spiked and he recoiled further into the headboards. 

This was all some large plot to get Baz to admit he was a vampire. How did he not see it before? Simon would never truly want someone like him. Just because he was bisexual didn’t mean he wanted Baz, at least not in the same way Baz wanted Simon. Simon simply realized he was bisexual, wanted a quick shag, and wanted to get a confession out of Baz. Triple score. He was an idiot. Baz felt his lungs constricting, with pain, with anger. How could he be so blind?

“I’m not a vampire,” Baz said stonily, making to get up, but wincing as he felt his body unravelling beneath him.

“No, Baz, stop,” Simon grabbed at his hand. This felt oddly familiar. 

Baz closed his eyes and ignored the stinging behind his pupils. He was going to cry. It was all too much. 

“Let me go,” he said, intending to sound harsh and distant, but instead his voice cracked, filled with pent up emotion. He breathed out unevenly. Maybe something inside him had broken for good.

“No Baz, you always do this,” Simon turned so that he was sitting as nearly in front of Baz and held his other hand. Baz tried to pull away but Simon held on tight.

“Do what?” Baz snapped, turning his face so that Simon couldn’t see the way his nose turned pink before he cried. 

“You always run away.”

“I don’t run away.”

“Why can’t you just be honest for once? Would it kill you to be vulnerable?”

“You tell me,” Baz ground out, yanking his hands out of Simon’s grip and folding them over his chest. Merlin, he felt his chest constricting. Both out of emotional and physical pain. He made a mental note to not spend Christmas day in the Catacombs.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Baz!” Baz’s eyes widened with surprise. He felt a crackling of electricity in the air and the sharp, muffling smell of smoke. Was Simon going to go off?

Baz stayed silent and blinked as he felt tears welling up. They just wouldn’t go away. He wished he could be as emotional as he portrayed himself to be. He wished he could be as invisible as the world made him feel.

“I know you love me and I don’t care!” Baz’s face shattered, he was quick to cover it with his blank face. Cool and impassive. However, Simon immediately saw his mistake and sputtered, “I mean, I-I don’t care, it’s okay, I do care, because...”

Simon trailed off, considering his words while Baz watched his heart shatter, like watching the trajectory of a falling glass.

“I don’t care because I don’t mind, I want that.”

Baz’s heart skipped a beat and he felt something inside him freeze, like a snapshot right before something terrible happened, or maybe something incredible. 

“You want… _what_?” Baz asked warily, narrowing his eyes at Simon. He needed to hear Simon say it. The effect was dulled as Baz had uncrossed his arms and Simon reached out slowly, like approaching a wild animal, to thread their fingers together. Baz felt something inside him loosen, like he could suddenly breathe again.

“I want you, Baz” Simon said, nearly a whisper. He’d shifted so that he was straddling Baz’s thighs and was now looking Baz head on. They were seeing eye-to-eye. “I want whatever this is,” Simon momentarily let go of Baz’s hand to gesture between them. 

“What is _this_?” Baz sneered. If Simon just wanted the sex, he didn’t know what he’d say. He’d take Simon anyway he could have him. He’d be damned if he couldn’t. It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to hear Simon say he only wanted to get off with him. 

“I-I don’t know,” Simon admitted. Baz was emotionally exhausted and suddenly realized just how badly he wanted out of this conversation. “I want to be with you,” Simon whispered, looking down to their joined palms.

“Merlin, one shag and you think it’s love,” Baz muttered, rolling his eyes. He hoped the wetness of his eyes wasn’t visible.

“Well…” Simon trailed off, “you sure seem to think so.”

Baz glared at him.“What do you want Simon?” 

“You.”

Baz eye’s flicked between their joined hands to Simon’s eyes. He was gorgeous. All golden curls and ocean eyes, he was basically offering himself up on a platter and Baz wasn’t taking it. _Why wasn’t he taking it._

_You’re afraid_ , Baz thought.

It was true. It all boiled down to the same three words.

_I am afraid._

He'd spent his entire life being afraid. He was afraid of himself or being a vampire. He was afraid of his love for Simon. He was so afraid, afraid of Simon not loving him back. Ever. But somehow, he knew he’d take the plunge. He’d do it for Simon. 

He’d risk it all. 

“Okay.”

Simon eyes flashed with surprise, but before he knew it, Simon’s face split into a grin and he leaned forward to capture Baz in a breathtaking kiss. Literally breathtaking. 

Simon leaned back as soon as he head Baz wheeze.

“Baz!” Simon quickly leaned away from Baz, crushing his thighs in the process., “I’m so sorry.”

Baz couldn’t find it within himself to care. He’d Google his symptoms on WebMD and find out he had severe pneumonia or stage four lung cancer and he wouldn’t care. 

He wouldn’t care because he loved Simon. He wanted Simon.

And Simon wanted him too.

Even if it wasn’t love, the possibility of Simon wanting him still made his heart thunder against his ribcage. 

It may not be love.

But maybe, a chance was all he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh.  
> Well, I don't know what to tell you.  
> Honestly, the only thing I want to know is nothing more and nothing less than "Can vampires get pneumonia?", so uh, if anyone has an answer my Tumblr is Panicatthealiceee. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this don't forget to like and smash that like button. 
> 
> This is Alice, signing off.


	6. You and I Were Fire (Fireworks)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Will you be my boyfriend?" 
> 
> -
> 
> Trust me, they're in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, it's been a long time coming.
> 
> It's short and sweet to take the edge off. They deserve to be soft.
> 
> (The chapter title is from a Fall Out Boy song because that's just how I roll)

**Simon**

**1 January, 2016**

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“I don’t know, can you?” Baz replied, nosing at Simon’s throat.

Simon rolled his eyes, “May I ask you a question?” he tried, mockingly, sliding his hands up Baz’s side to his neck. Baz had slept nuzzled into Simon’s side, their legs tangled together, and their hands interlocked. It sounded complicated, because it was. 

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

-

**A bit before then...**

Christmas Day had been spent in Baz’s bed, talking and kissing and completely ignoring all the homework that was due in two weeks. Luckily the Mage had not roped Simon into any impromptu holiday missions, and Baz’s family seemed content to let him stay undisturbed at Watford. Except for a handful of texts from Fiona telling him to take the opportunity to sneak into the Mage’s office, and Dev and Niall’s obligatory ‘Merry Christmas’s, Baz was alone with Simon. Somewhere in Baz’s mind a voice was telling him to freak out about this fact, but the rational part of Baz’s brain told him to enjoy it _while it lasted._ Oh, how Baz hated his inner monologue. 

Both of them had seemed completely oblivious to the fact that time, had indeed, not stopped. It didn’t stop them from pretending it had anyway. 

This obliviousness to the continuity of time of course resulted in the days following Christmas being completely uneventful due to Baz’s current fling with pneumonia and the aftershocks of mild Hypothermia. It sounded absurd because it was. Baz had confessed a few days later that he didn’t know if vampires could get sick (he now knew they could). 

“I thought vampires weren’t supposed to get sick,” Simon had commented as they were working their way through Half-Blood Prince. 

Baz was sitting between Simon’s legs and considered elbowing Simon in the ribs. Instead, he just mumbled out a, “neither did I, Snow.”

“You called me Simon before.”

“Snow.”

“You’re impossible,” Baz rolled his eyes and turned around to kiss the mole on the side of Simon’s neck. 

“Give me a reason to call you ‘Simon’,” Baz had teased, and bit Simon’s earlobe.

Simon lightly pushed Baz away from him, “maybe I will, prick.” 

Baz rolled his eyes and turned back around to see Draco lying on the floor of the girl’s lavatory with Harry leaning over him. Merlin, he was instantly reminded of what Simon and he would’ve been in another universe. In an alternate universe Simon and he would be at each other's throats, and this year, Baz would've let Simon kill him. No one would mourn for him. It felt like ice water being poured on him.

He tilted his head back against Simon’s shoulder and breathed in. 

They’d be okay.

Besides stolen kisses and cuddling, not much of interest happened. 

However, thanks to Baz’s excellent vampire-enhanced immune system within five days he was back to normal. Just in time for New Years. 

Baz, enjoying his newfound freedom from hacking up his lungs and feeling like he was cold and drowning all the time took the opportunity to snog Simon until they couldn’t breathe whenever and wherever. Except during meals. 

It was a bit awkward when they were sitting together at the tables during breakfast as no one else was there except for a first year and two fourth years. But even they were accustomed to the Baz/Simon rivalry, so seeing them sitting civilly, and pleasantly, together caused as much of a gossip stir that can happen when there are only five total students at school.

After that ordeal they’d just go to Cook Pritchard for the food directly (although Simon was starting to think that she was getting a bit tired of his excessive Sour Cherry Scone demands and subsequently was baking them harder and colder everyday, luckily Baz was there to cast **You’re Getting Warmer** on them.

Now Simon found himself leaning against Baz’s chest between his legs watching a belated Doctor Who Christmas special. They’d gotten through all the Harry Potter movies and two seasons of Game of Thrones in the five days between Christmas and New Years. They’d done so little that Simon was beginning to question whether they should do something more productive. 

Baz had seemed ever so hesitant to touch him those first few days, but slowly they'd grown more accustomed to each other. They'd relearned each other. To Simon, seeing this new side of Baz was akin to seeing the belly of the beast.

Except Baz didn't feel like the antagonist to his story anymore. Baz felt inevitable.

He didn't know if Baz could sense the pure waves of want coming from him. Or perhaps it was need. He was undecided upon that, but he was sure of Baz. He was as sure of Baz as he'd been sure of Agatha at one time. But this didn't disturb him, because he was sure of Baz differently than how he'd been sure of Agatha. 

With Agatha, she'd felt inevitable the way a hurricane felt inevitable. You couldn't escape it, so why fight it?

Baz felt inevitable the way a platter of sour cherry scones felt inevitable. He couldn't resist. He didn't know how much he wanted until he'd tried a bite, and now he couldn't stop. He craved Baz like air.

However, unknown to both of them, the other person was more smitten with them than they'd ever know. More smitten than they could ever imagine. 

“What do you want to listen to?” Baz asked Simon who lay with his head nestled on Baz's chest. Baz had his arm rested on Simon's shoulder and was scrolling through his Spotify. 

Simon shrugged against his arm. 

Baz decided to be facetious, “brilliant choice, Snow.”

“You know what I like,” Simon mumbled, yawning. The nerdy clock that Penny had gotten Simon three Christmas ago was currently a bit more than halfway past 2x+2. Nearly midnight.

Baz rolled his eyes at Simon's indirect response and hit shuffle play on Origin Of Symmetry. 

“Happy now?” Baz asked as a text caused a _ping_ to emit from his phone.

Who in their right mind would be texting him twenty minutes before midnight on New Years Eve.

Fiona.

**11:37 pm**

Fiona Bitch: hey fucker, hows new yrs?

Tyrannosaurus: Splendid.

He meant it facetiously, but found himself meaning it. 

“Do you still have that stash of Vodka I saw you drinking fifth year?” Simon asked, pulling himself out of Baz’s arms and drawing himself up slowly. He languidly stretched with his arms raised high above his head. Baz’s eyes were immediately drawn towards a sliver of skin where his shirt had ridden up.

“That was three years ago,” Baz murmured, running his fingers through his hair, trying to get it back in place.

“Your point is…?” 

Baz sighed. “Behind the clothes basket in my closet.” 

Just then, Baz’s phone pinged again.

FB: whatd u mean ‘splendid’? 

FB: did u shit in the mage’s office?

Baz sighed. His aunt was relentless.

Ty: I mean it’s going splendid.

Ty: No, and I’m not going to.

FB: Buzzkill.

FB: Buzzcock (thats a band reference befr ur time) 

Ty: Are you drunk?

FB: Am quite drunk, tanks fr askin kiddo

FB: ps, i foudn a nice blok at a bar, u want his numbr???

Ty: No thanks. I’m quite happy with the state of affairs.

“Jesus, Baz, who’s blowing up your phone?” Simon asked, tipping a bottle of Vodka into his mouth and immediately coughing afterwards. Idiot. An idiot Baz would quite like to snog (and maybe more) if his aunt stopped blowing up his phone.

“My aunt,” Baz said exasperated, typing out a response to his aunt’s most recent text.

FB: ooo 

FB: do tell, what bloke has gotten ur panties ina twist??

FB: is it Niall??? Pls say its niall, ive got thirty peence ridding on this

Ty: Gross.

Baz’s thumbs hovered dancing over his screen. Simon settled back into bed with a bottle of Vodka tucked between his thighs and his arms wrapped around Baz’s waist. His face was snuggled into Baz’s sweater and it was quite distracting. 

He considered his response. It was his aunt. He was (almost) always honest with her. The only thing she didn’t know about him was his undying love for Simon Snow. That would have to change. 

Ty: I’ll tell you later. 

Ty: Happy New Years. X.

FB: u better, x

FB: luv ya kid, hoep ur happy x 

Baz set his phone down on the night stand and placed his hand over Simon’s curls, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

This was really happening. 

He was going to tell his aunt about Simon, which would lead to telling Dev and Niall, which would lead to telling Daphne, which would lead to his father. Oh Merlin. He was fucked. 

He’d do it for Simon, though,

He’d go to the moon and back for Simon. He’d hang the stars for him.

Besides them, the clock chimed midnight. In the distance Baz swore he could hear fireworks going off. 

Simon seemed to have heard it too as he pulled himself up from where he’d snuggled his head into Baz’s sweater clad stomach and sat to straddle Baz’s thighs. 

His eyes were brilliant and shining, reflecting the soft lamplight coming from Baz’s desk lamp. 

“Happy New Years,” Simon whispered, although Baz couldn’t figure out why they were whispering, he whispered back a response.

“Happy New Years, love.”

And then, he kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks. Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk. I hope you enjoyed this.
> 
> If you did, don't forget to leave kudos, comments and smash that subscribe button.
> 
> This is Alice, for the last time, signing off. X

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters to come...
> 
> Don't forget to leave kudos or comments if you so please.
> 
> This is Alice, signing off.


End file.
